


Advance Directives

by salanaland



Series: Skywalker Family Feels [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan braid culture, Awesome Leia Organa, BAMF Leia Organa, Fluff, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Gen, Hair Braiding, Leia Organa Needs a Hug, Leia is always a badass, Leia is comatose but still a badass, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Skywalker hugs!!!, Sort Of Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salanaland/pseuds/salanaland
Summary: Leia has Strong Opinions (for Reasons) about what kind of lifesaving measures she wants when she's comatose. Unfortunately medical records are not always complete when you're on the run with your vigilante freedom-fighting friends.
Relationships: Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader
Series: Skywalker Family Feels [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616419
Comments: 13
Kudos: 266





	1. Chapter 1

"So...that's me." Leia frowns at the bed. "I'm really short. Have I always been that tiny? I don't _feel_ that short." She looks up at the ghost next to her. "Anakin, tell me the truth. Am I short?" 

Her father nods. "You've always been short. I don't know why. _I'm_ tall. But your...your _presence_ has always towered over your physical form."

"Literally true, now, huh?" She pokes the arm of the ghostly figure. "You're much more solid than usual. Am I dead?" 

He shakes his head. "You're breathing just fine. I've been watching."

"I could breathe and still be brain dead," she points out.

"You're not brain dead. You're just--not all the way back yet." He leans over the bed, covers her inert hand with his. "You'll get here in time."

Leia ducks under his elbow and stands beside him, leaning into his side a little hesitantly. He looks down at her, surprised, then curls his arm around her protectively. 

"What if I... what if I stop breathing?" She looks up at him, eyes wide. 

Anakin frowns. "It's... it's not pleasant, but it would be just a few minutes. Seven or eight at most. And--if you're, if you’re _out_ like this, you wouldn't even feel it. But there's no reason you _should_ stop breathing. Your lungs aren't damaged like mine, your neck isn't broken like mine was." He hugs her closer, and she leans against his chest as he rubs her back soothingly. "You'll be fine. We'll wait together, here, as long as it takes. And then you'll wake up, and you'll go back out to save the galaxy, like you always do."

Leia smiles slightly, wraps her arms around her father for the first time in her life, and murmurs, "But what if I _do_ stop breathing, and _they won't let me die?_ "

Just then, a doctor enters Leia's room, followed by a dark-haired young man in a flight suit, arguing loudly. "-- _specifically_ not to do this--" 

The doctor huffs. "Ensuring a patent airway is a best practice in cases of coma--" 

"But it's even _better_ to read a patient's records," the young man insists.

The doctor draws herself up to her full height. "Are you implying that I haven’t looked at General Organa's medical history?" 

The pilot snaps, "I don't have to _imply_ anything, because she's made it _very_ clear that she doesn't want any kind of machine assisted respiration, which you _would_ know if you were doing your job!" 

Leia sighs. "Oh, Poe."

The doctor snaps, "Who do you think you are, anyway? You're not her next of kin, you don't get to make those decisions."

"That's right," Poe retorts. "That's why she has very detailed instructions _in her file_ about this stuff."

"Any of these things you think you can live without?" Anakin asks Leia, nodding towards the medical machinery beeping and gurgling away.

She turns to look. "Hmm. That, perhaps? The one up there with the one green light? They don't even _look_ at it. And the backup fluid pump, there, has a very annoying alarm." She bites her lip, lowers her eyes. "And I'd rather not have the respirator."

Anakin nods. "Me neither."

Poe and the doctor have escalated to yelling, now, and another doctor, an elderly man, ducks his head in. "What is all this screaming? You're loud enough to wake the dead."

"Perfect!" Anakin says with a grin, pointing at the panel, which explodes in a shower of sparks. 

"Not perfect at all!" Leia grouses. "You almost set me on fire."

The two doctors and Poe glance up to the panel, and the older doctor turns an unattractive shade of gray, backing up slowly. "Get maintenance in to fix that when they have a chance, and if the patient doesn't want a respirator, _don't give her one_ ," he tells the younger doctor.

"I would _never_ set you on fire," Anakin insists. "Being on fire is _painful_ , and I _love_ you and I don't want to cause you pain."

"Good to know that _now_ ," Leia mumbles.

"I just meant it was a perfect cue. Like in an opera," Anakin explains. 

" _You_ like _opera??_ " 

"I'm not entirely an uncultured slave child from Tatooine," Anakin retorts. "...anymore."

"But there's no mention of it in the records I have," the young doctor insists. "And without word from the next of kin--"

Anakin points at the offending pump, which bursts, showering everyone with saline solution. "Did you see that? Because I _am_ your next of kin."

"They generally only consult _living_ family members, you know." Leia informs him. "Sorry to burst _your_ bubble."

The older doctor is definitely trembling, now. "Look, just, just, there was this one patient I saw in my Empire days, very high ranking, and... _things would happen."_ He looks warily at the broken panel and pump. "Equipment would break on its own when he got upset. He was...difficult."

" _Difficult?!_ " Anakin scoffs. "Leia, did you hear that? He called me _difficult._ How rude."

"How do you know he's talking about _you_?" Leia asks. "Could be someone else. Maybe your _boss_ wrecked an erectile dysfunction clinic." Anakin guffaws helplessly. 

The younger doctor digs in her heels. "What does this have to do with _my_ patient? Half our equipment is on the verge of failing anyway. It's not like when you worked for the _Empire."_

Leia elbows her father. "Stop laughing so hard, she just gave you a perfect cue."

Anakin nods, trying to muffle his laughter with his mechanical hand, and leans over the younger doctor's equipment tray. "Oh, look, they incorporated the automatic airway pressure adjustment upgrades I came up with. Top of the line, here. They went all out for you." He reaches towards the respirator, but hesitates, apologetic. "You...might want to cover your ears, Leia. I promise I won't be offended."

She squeezes his left hand, hard. "Don't tell me it'll be any easier for _you_."

He rolls his eyes. "It's to help _you._ I'd do _anything_ to help you." He takes a deep, unnecessary breath and steadies himself. 

"Did you maybe forget all the newsnets in the entire galaxy blowing up with _shocking revelations about_ _Leia Organa_ a few years ago? Destroying her political career?" Poe asks sardonically. 

"I never pay attention to the gossip feeds," the younger doctor huffs. "It's not like they're relevant to my work."

Poe shakes his head in disbelief. "So you have _no clue_ who her father was?" 

The doctor shrugs impatiently. "No. Does it matter?" 

Anakin frowns, holds his daughter close, and eyes the respirator, which activates, once, with a loud and awful and thoroughly familiar hiss. 

Poe and the younger doctor flinch; the older doctor faints. On the bed, Leia's blank face grimaces. The respirator flings itself to the floor and crumples into the wall. "Yeah...about that..." Poe says shakily. "You might have heard of him. Tall, dark, and terrifying? Creepy heavy breathing? Went by the name of Darth Vader?" 

The younger doctor stares at the respirator, then at Leia. "She's...really short."

" _Really_?" Leia shakes her head in disappointment. "Is it _that_ noticeable?"


	2. Poe the Inadequate Advocate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really starting to like Poe's POV of Skywalker Force Ghost shenanigans.

Plotting a mutiny is a little bit less exciting than Poe thought it would be. He's whispered the same complaints, the same plan, over and over in many different ears, ear-holes, and knees. That one was very awkward.

And he's listened to a ton of suggestions from his newly minted co-conspirators that range from the sublimely inspired to the offensively obtuse to the just plain weird. He's had to encourage them, or discourage them, or explain things they misheard or misunderstood. _And_ he's had to communicate changes to the plan, and all this while pretending that he's not _actually_ planning a mutiny. Which means acting normal, so even though he's itching to pull the trigger, he needs to _wait_ for Kaydel to talk to the engineers, which she won't be able to do for another hour. 

So Poe is here in the medbay, checking on General Organa again and trying to avoid the doctor that (probably justifiably) hates him. He makes it all the way to the General's bed without getting caught--

\--when he'd been here last, when things were exploding and catching fire, he could have _sworn_ her hair had been wrapped in some sort of white hospital cap or scarf. In any case, _covered_ and _undisturbed_. Now, however, it's most assuredly _not_. In fact, half of it is spread out across her pillow; the other half is partially braided. 

Fuming, he stomps to the office of the doctor on duty. " _Who's_ in charge of General Organa's care?" he demands. 

The doctor is scowling at him before he even reaches her. "Look who's here, my _favorite_ self-appointed patient advocate."

Poe scowls right back. " _Someone's_ been messing with the General's _hair_. You don't _do_ that to someone from Alderaan. Who's her nurse?" 

"Funny thing," the doctor says, in a tone that suggests that she is actually the exact opposite of amused, "the entire medical staff is _convinced_ her room's haunted by Darth Vader." She pauses in the process of cramming data chips into a shoulder bag. "Except for me. So I'm her doctor and her nurse and everything else. And I certainly wouldn't be doing anything culturally insensitive to her while _you're_ on the case."

"Well, _someone_ unbraided her hair and left it half done," Poe snaps, "so you should check your cameras and see who--" 

"Uh-uh-uh, flyboy," the doctor interrupts. "We've got proximity alarms around her bed, you set them off a minute ago. Other than you and me, nobody's gone in her room in six hours."

Poe points to the monitor, where the tiny, slightly glitchy image of Leia shows the now-completed braid tucking itself around her head. A hairpin hovers over on its own, pinning the braid in place, before her loose hair separates itself into thirds and begins a second braid. 

"That..." the doctor sighs. "That's _weird_." 

Poe nods slowly. "Yeah. The Force is weird."

"You think it really _is_ him? Vader, I mean?" the doctor asks curiously. "Wonder if he'd answer a few questions for me."

"I don't know, why?" Poe asks, dumbfounded. 

The doctor shrugs. "Family health history? Next of kin stuff?" She rummages in a cabinet and pulls out an old-fashioned eye chart with Aurebesh letters in different sizes. "You know what would be _really_ useful right now? One of those hokey spirit boards with the pointer and everything."

"Wait, you want to use a _spirit board_ to communicate with- _-no_ , that is a _very bad idea_."

She shoves a datapad into Poe's hands. "Transcribe, flyboy." Grabbing the eye chart and some kind of small instrument, she walks purposefully to Leia's room. "I know _someone_ is invisibly fixing General Organa's hair," she announces without preamble. "She's _my_ patient, so I think I should know who's doing it, in the interest of her welfare." She sets the chart and the instrument on the bed by Leia's knees. "So let's start with introductions. I'm Doctor Rinka Karvassa. This impetuous fellow is Poe Dameron, who's going to transcribe your answers, if that's okay with you."

The instrument, some kind of small tweezer thing, moves to point at O, then K. Doctor Karvassa elbows Poe and he hastily enters the response. She sighs at him. "You have to write down what I'm asking, too. Otherwise it won't make sense. You can abbreviate it, so you can enter OK TO RECORD? And then enter the response exactly as presented, OK." She shakes her head. "It's not that hard, even a fighter pilot should be able to follow along."

The instrument points to H, then A, then H, then A. Poe scowls and enters DR RUDE TO ME, then HAHA. 

Doctor Karvassa's lip twitches up in a brief smile. "You're getting the hang of it. Alright, invisible gentlebeing, may I have your name and pronouns for the record?" 

W-H-Y

The doctor's brow furrows. "So I can make sure that you're someone who actually has a right to be here with General Organa, not just a random invisible creep breaking our stuff and grabbing at her hair."

A-N-A-K-I-N S-K-Y-W-A-L-K-E-R

"Pronouns?" 

H-E

"Relationship to the patient?" 

B-I-O-F-A-T-H-E-R

The doctor frowns in confusion at Poe, who sighs and explains, "That's his _original_ name. How did you miss that? It was on _every_ newsfeed, even the weather. '96% chance of toxic rain today, and 100% chance of Sith spawn in the highest levels of government!' And then they'd replay the footage of it being revealed." 

She shakes her head. "I _told_ you I don't pay attention to gossip." She turns back to Leia's biobed. "For the record, are you the being also known as Darth Vader?" 

I-W-A-S

"Guess your colleagues were right about that whole 'haunting' thing, huh?" Poe snipes.

Doctor Karvassa looks critically at Poe's transcription. "Did you seriously just misspell 'Skywalker'? It's literally made out of two ordinary Basic words, and he just spelled it for you." She rolls her eyes. " _Pilots_." 

H-A-H-A

Poe makes a rude gesture towards the eye chart, and mutters, " _You're_ a pilot too, poodoo-head." He thinks longingly of the mutiny he'd rather be impatiently awaiting right now, and sets the datapad to autocorrect his spelling as he settles in for much more medical transcription than he thought he'd ever do in an illegal paramilitary organization.


End file.
